


Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

by BestParsley



Category: Junjou Romantica, Sekai-ichi Hatsukoi
Genre: Addiction, Binge Drinking, Cocaine, Eventual Happy Ending, Heavily based on Rocketman and the live of Elton John, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Majorly Out of Character, Not a lighthearted fic, Overdosing, Recovery, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, other JR and SIH characters will show up but they're minor characters, seriously this is probably going to be way OOC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:55:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24160003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BestParsley/pseuds/BestParsley
Summary: Usami Akihiko is a world famous singer/pianist who begins his spiraling decent into drug and alcohol addiction. He falls in love with his friend's younger brother, but risks losing him in his battle with addiction and self control.Again, this is heavily based on the movie rocketman and the life of Elton John.
Relationships: Takahashi Misaki/Usami Akihiko
Comments: 11
Kudos: 16





	1. This Song Has No Title

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter will share a title with a song by Elton John. Hopefully they'll go together well.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

A-

Sometimes I think back to my early career, when the audience had only consisted of a few handfuls of people in a cramped bar, hazed from smoke--where the keys on piano were never really in tune and the sets were only forty-five minutes long. Maybe once I could have been able to tell you when the audience turned into a crowd, and the crowds turned into massive swarms of fans, like maggots on a corpse. Maybe once I could have been able to tell you about how I got to where I am, but my memory fails me these days. 

What I can tell you now is that massive crowds of fans turn into massive piles of money, and money can buy you things like nice houses, yachts, pools with fountains in them, swanky cars, and big parties. 

“Well if it isn't Mr. Big Shot!” My good friend--my  _ best  _ friend--practically my  _ brother _ , Takahiro Takahashi, shouted from across the party. I felt my spirits raise just by seeing his smiling face and greeted him with open arms. There had once been a time when I loathed big parties, but that was the thing you did when you became a star. Buy disgustingly large mansions with too much room so you can throw big parties for your posse to hang around after concerts. 

“I’m glad to see you could make it.” I shouted into his ear over the music.  _ My  _ music, along with the albums of other rock artists and bands. I hated the sound of my own voice, but it’s what the guests always requested to hear, and I got tired of saying no. “You want some champagne?” 

Takahiro nodded, handing his coat off to a server who exchanged it for a flute of Moët. We were dressed similarly, both wearing suits, but while Takahiro’s slacks and jacket were a matching midnight black, mine was a vibrant red mohair suit. Flashy, yes, but it was all for show. My agent, the most miserable prick of a man, Ijuuin Kyo, always had everything planned out straight down to the very laces on my shoes. Parties were to market the star, get people to love you even more than they already do. Entertain them. Make them think they’re your friends. 

I didn’t really mind all of the glitz and glam. It’s not like I was unused to wealth. My father was the CEO of a widely successful oil company in Japan, but he had never cared to support me in my music. I am proud to say that every bit of money I earned was from my music and not the name that I share with my father. Naturally, I liked to enjoy the things I had earned. I never mind sticking out in a crowd. You learn to live without things like privacy when you’re one of the biggest stars in the industry. 

“You did great tonight.” Takahiro said and we shared a hearty sip of champagne. “I mean, you always do, and I know you don’t need to hear it from me, but you were great.”

I smiled genuinely. Coming from Takahiro, those sort of compliments never grew old. “Hey, I’m not the one cranking out hit after hit, I’m just the one who sings them. It’s the song writer that deserves the credit.” I winked. 

Since high school, Takahiro and I had been possessed by music. It was what originally had sparked the light to our friendship. Ten years later we were still making music. He was a poet at heart, and his lyrics showed it. Sure, I wrote the melodies, but any great piano player could do what I do. Lyrics were what connected the audience to the songs. They bridged the gap between a song that was good, and a song that would soar to the top of the charts overnight. I owed my career to him, but he would never admit it. 

Out in the yard, the music was still deafening but the crowd was less dense and we were able to find a place to sit and chat. We talked about anything other than work, though we both knew that music was still itching in the back of our minds, brewing up the next best hit. It was like a parasite cohabiting inside of us. We could pretend to ignore it but we would always know it was there, that urge to sit down and pump out one more song. 

“How’s the new home? Did you get settled in already?”

Takahiro was a frugal man. He didn’t like flashy things like me. We were different like that and in so many other ways. Where I was exorbitant with my spending, he liked to pay only for things he needed. It took me years to convince him to move from Tokyo and get a place to live in California, and even then he only rented a modest apartment. It was because of his younger brother. Takahiro’s parents had died in a tragic car accident shortly after I met him and he was left to raise his kid brother alone. Strange to say that I knew Takahiro like the back of my hand but I had only met his brother a small handful of times when he was younger. He was quiet, like his brother, and kept out of my hair which was fine. He’s ten years younger than Takahiro and I so there wasn’t much for the two of us to share in common. 

“I can’t believe you talked me into buying that house, Usagi.” He shook his head. I grinned at the sound of my nickname. Only he called me Usagi. He christened me with the name after watching me play piano for the first time. He said I had a tendency to “bounce around” when I get into what I’m playing. Most concerts I forget to even sit on my piano bench and end up standing as I play.

“Hey! You needed out of that tiny matchbox.”

_ “Matchbox?!”  _ He scoffed. “Usagi, it was a penthouse!”

“Well this is good for you! You deserve to live in a nice big home!”

Takahiro took another sip of his Moët. I finished mine and waved for another. Within seconds a server was at my side to refill my flute.

“Well, Misaki loves it. So does Manami.” 

_ Manami. _ I tried not to frown at the mention of the name of his fiance. Though they’d been engaged for five years, Takahiro still had yet to set a date for the wedding. Manami was a sweet woman, pretty, smart, and funny. I had met her on one occasion, but the experience of seeing her and Takahiro together when they were so clearly in love was almost impossible for me to stomach, and I made a promise to myself after that, that I would encounter Manami as little as humanly possible. I had held myself to that promise as well. 

“How is Misaki?” I asked, changing the subject. Asking about Misaki was usually a last resort question for me. Grasping at straws. I couldn’t really give less of a shit about what his younger brother was up to, but it always made Takahiro so cheerful to speak about him. 

“He’s great. He makes me feel so old, though.”

“How old is he again?” I feigned interest, taking another gulp of champagne. 

“He turned nineteen last week.”

“That’s right. I remember you telling me that.” 

Takahiro set his champagne down on the small poolside table and leaned back in his chaise. “He’s struggling to find work here. He hates his job at the cafe.”

“I thought you said he was going to culinary school?” I asked, surprising myself for remembering such a small detail. 

“He was. He is. It’s complicated.” His shoulders sagged with a sigh, “He’s refusing to let me pay for his tuition. He says it’s too expensive here. I told him I can afford it, but he said no. He wants to work for the money himself.”

“That’s ridiculous.” 

“I know, and I can’t convince him otherwise.”

“Well is he any good?”

“He’s amazing. He’s been a better chef than me ever since he was a kid. I don’t know why he’s even bothering going to school. He needs to be applying for jobs at restaurants.”

I found myself growing bored with the conversation, and despite my best attempts, I began to space out. The dancing light refracting from the pool water against the side of the house caught my attention and I started to stare off. My contribution to the conversation turned into half hearted, subtle nods of affirmation. Although I hadn’t had much to drink by that point, the alcohol didn’t seem to be helping the situation any further. Eventually I began to feel anxious that Takahiro might notice me zoning out and I tugged my focus back to him with a sharp pull. 

“I could help.” 

The worlds left my mouth before they even processed in my head. I immediately regretted speaking at all when Takahiro sat up abruptly and looked at me. “Really?”

How was I to say no when he was looking at me like I had just given him the stars. 

“Sure.” Quickly I made up a bullshit plan. “He could come work for me. I’ve always wanted to hire a personal chef. I’ll pay him well so he can use the money if he decides to go back to culinary school, and if he decides he wants to go straight into the field then he’ll have gained experience. Personal chef for Usami Akihiko ought to look pretty good on a resume, don’t you think?” 

“Usagi I couldn’t--”

“Too late.” I stood. My words betrayed my thoughts as I mentally kicked myself for the idea that was now practically set in stone. “He’s hired. I expect to see him at work immediately on Monday.”

“Usagi, I don’t know what to say, I--” He paused. That look of pure elation made me melt and I once again couldn’t help but give in to him. Takahiro wrapped me in a tight hug and patted my back roughly. “Thank you, Usagi. This will mean so much to him. I’ll let him know when I get home tonight. Thank you.  _ Thank you.” _

* * *

M-

I felt a twinge of irritation as I stood at the door of an absurdly large mansion and rang the doorbell for the third time.  _ Why have a doorbell if you’re not going to answer?  _

Outside, I got a good look at the mansion I was set to be working in for the time being. It was massive, three stories tall with a grand staircase that led from the private road to the front of the house. It looked more like a castle than a home, with its white brick siding and pillars that contrasted with the dark roofing. A chandelier hung from above the front door. It was unreasonable. The house Nii-chan had just bought was expensive as well, but it was only so pricey because of the pool in the backyard and the view from the hillside. It was still only a three bedroom property, which paled in comparison to the house I stood in front of. It likely held at least seven full sized bedrooms plus the master suite. 

The yard was pristine save for the trash that littered the lawn. It was clear that a party had been thrown the previous night. Usami Akihiko, one of the most well known rock artists in the world, was known for his extravagant parties he liked to throw after concerts. My brother, Takahiro, liked to attend the parties and mingle, but he never stayed for very long. He was usually home around midnight, and the parties were known to go well into the next morning. 

I rang the doorbell again and heard it buzz inside.  _ Is he ignoring me? He promised Takahiro to offer me a job. We wouldn’t go back on his word now… _

Moments later I saw a figure approach the door through the decorative windows of the double doors. A man appeared, disheveled. Grey hair tousled from sleep, Usami Akihiko answer the door in a pink silk robe that remained open and exposed his chest, stomach, and y-front briefs. I blushed at the almost complete lack of clothing, trying to find the words to say as he leaned against the side of the door with his forearm. A cigarette balanced on the edge of his lip to complete the entire look. 

“Good morning,” was all I could think to say.

He looked me up and down in scrutiny. “Next time don’t jackhammer the doorbell. Just come in.” 

_ I rang the doorbell three times,  _ is what I wanted to say. Instead, I kept a straight face and said, “I’m sorry. I figured you didn’t want me to just barge in.” 

Akihiko said nothing and turned around, leaving the door open in what I assumed was an open invitation for me to follow, so I did. I made sure to take off my shoes in the mudroom and shuffled behind my new boss as we made our way through the house. The evidence of a party was still apparent in every room, but a small staff of cleaners were slowly taking care of the mess that looked much like the remnants of a frat party. 

“My brother sent me with a few songs he wanted you to look at.” 

The mention of Takahiro caught Akihiko’s attention and he turned sharply to face me. I scrambled to pull out a manila envelope from my bag labeled “Usagi” in kanji. He and I still like to speak to each other in Japanese when we were together, and though I knew Akihiko obviously spoke Japanese, it felt too informal to share our native tongue together. Too personal. Though I’ve known Akihiko most of my life, far before he was ever famous, we were still strangers. The only thing in the world we shared was my brother and our language. So I stuck to English, which felt more formal and business appropriate. 

Akihiko snatched the envelopes out of my hand and kept walking. We passed through one of the living rooms that happened to be clean. The curtains were drawn open and the sunlight fell directly on the centerpiece of the room: a glossy, baby pink grand piano. The top was propped open. 

“Don’t touch that.” Akihiko said, not bothering to turn around when he spoke to me. “Ever.” 

“I wasn’t going to.” The piano surely cost more than the house Takahiro had just purchased. I wasn’t a child. I didn’t need to be told not to touch expensive things. I didn’t even know how to play piano, so there was no need for me to even be near the instrument.

“This is the kitchen. No one else ever goes in here so it’s yours. You have free range.” He said disinterestedly. 

The kitchen was spacious and sleek with stainless steel and copper appliances. I’d never been allowed to cook in such a well equipped space before. “Have you already eaten breakfast?” I asked, setting my bag down on the counter. It was filled with books of techniques and recipes, and I was already itching to try out my new kitchen. 

“No.” 

I checked the cabinets and pantries--which there were two of--and was surprised to find that they were all but empty. Even the fridge was stocked with the absolute bare minimum. “Wait a minute. What am I supposed to cook with? You have nothing here!”

Akihiko shrugged, still smoking on his cigarette even though we were in the kitchen. “There are eggs in the fridge. Make me an omelette. I’ll take my meal by my piano.” He said and quickly turned out of the room with my brother’s songs in his hand. 

After a few moments, a soft tune carried from the piano and a muffled voice working out a melody sang softly in the distance. I couldn’t deny Akihiko’s voice was easy to listen to, and his talent as a pianist was unmatched, but I didn’t tend to listen to his music by choice. Of course, his music was everywhere. He always had a song at the top of the charts, and he and my brother cranked music out like work horses. Growing up, I would come home from school to find Akihiko at our piano at home singing loudly while my brother strummed out a basic tune on a guitar. It’s not that I ever tired of his voice, it was simply that I had grown used to it. 

I got to work on the omelettes with complete determination to show my new boss just how good of a cook he had hired. Omelettes were child’s play. I’d been making those since I was a kid when Takahiro was busy with work. Luckily Akihiko’s fridge was stocked with vegetables that seemed surprisingly fresh and even a carton of orange juice. It might not have been as impressive of a meal as I had been hoping for, but I was confident that it would taste good. 

There was a silver tray in one of the cupboards which I used to carry the meal out to the living room. Akihiko was now singing louder, seeming to have found a melody he was happy with and improvising as he read the lyrics. I set the tray down on the little table next to the pink piano and waited until he stopped playing. “Itadakimasu.” He mumbled half heartedly and grabbed the plate. 

It hadn’t been my intention to stand around and watch him eat, but I couldn’t help myself. I needed to see his reaction. I watched with anticipation as he cut himself a bite and started to chew, only to stop chewing almost immediately and spit the mouthful of egg back onto the plate. Akihiko set his fork back on the tray and handed me the plate. “You put green pepper in it.”

“Yes, that’s usually how omelettes are made.” I frowned, trying not to let the sting of embarrassment get to me. I knew for a fact that my omelettes were good.

“I don’t like green peppers.” He said indignantly.

I was suddenly starting to feel like I was dealing with a child. “Well you should have told me that before I made the omelette.”

Akihiko shrugged and grabbed his orange juice. “I’m telling you now. Go make me a new one.” He said, taking a sip and swallowing with a grimace. He handed over the drink as well. “You didn’t put any champagne in that.”

“No!” I sputtered, horrified at the implication. “Of course I didn’t!”

“Why not?” He asked sharply. “I only drink orange juice if it’s in a mimosa. If not, I just want water or coffee.”

I sighed, setting everything back on the tray. “Again, you should have told me that before I made you anything! Now this food is wasted.”

“It’s not wasted. You can still eat it. I don’t want it.” 

I balked. “Neither do I now that you’ve spit on it!”

Akihiko shrugged again. “Oh well. That’s your fault then.”

The urge to scream was rising steadily, but I managed to hold my frustration back, just barely. “How is that my fault?!”

“I’m not paying you to stand around and talk. I’m paying you to cook. If you’re not interested in doing your job then you’re free to leave.” He said cooly and returned to the keys of the piano, marking the end of the conversation. 

I marched back to the kitchen, still fuming, but I set to work on the second omelette immediately. When it was ready, I set it on a plate and carried it out on the silver tray with a freshly mixed mimosa. Akihiko finished up the line he was working on and turned to me again. This time when he took a bite of his omelette, he chewed slowly and nodded. “It’s good.” He said, and corrected himself. “Delicious. That’s probably the best omelette I’ve ever had.” 

The change in attitude took me back. I had fully been expecting a second harsh critique, but instead he ate up the rest of the omelette and sipped his mimosa without a single complaint. 

“Thank you for the meal.” Akihiko finally said. He set down his plate on the tray and turned back to the piano. “I want gyudon for lunch.” 

My jaw dropped.  _ “Gyudon?! _ But you don’t have any of the ingredients I need to make that dish!”

“Better run to the store then.” He flipped the pages of the music and began to loudly play again, drowning out any response I might have thrown at him.  _ Fucking prick.  _

_ Nii-chan, I fear I might have been roped into working for a toddler. Send help.  _


	2. Saturday Night Alright (For Fighting)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misaki and Akihiko butt heads again and Takahiro shares some big news!
> 
> Next chapter will be fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> M- Misaki's POV
> 
> A- Akihiko's POV

M- 

I knocked on the door of the master bedroom for the umpteenth time and checked the time again.  _ I’ll give him until the count of three, and then I’m going in.  _

“Usagi.” I tapped my foot, knowing that with each second wasted trying to wake up  _ his highness, _ the waffles, bacon, eggs, and hashbrowns that were waiting downstairs were getting colder. “Come on. Wake up.”

I knocked again, loud enough to ensure he could hear me. I  _ knew  _ he could hear me.

_ One. _

“Seriously, I’m going to come in if you don’t get your ass out here.”

_ Two. _

“Usagi! Breakfast is made already! If you don’t come down I’m going to eat your food and throw away the leftovers. You can go hungry until lunch.”

_ Two and a half… _

“Are you listening?!”

_ Two and three quarters… _

“Fine! Have it your way, then.”

_ Three. _

As I twisted the gold handle to the ivory painted french doors to the master bedroom, a force from the other side of the wall pulled the doors back with a yank so hard I nearly fell forward. Akihiko towered over me with a scowl so fierce I almost wished I could take back the threat of making him go hungry.  _ Almost… _

“Finally.” I huffed, collecting myself and once again ignoring his lack of clothing beside his y-front briefs and pink, silk robe. Another cigarette teetered on his lip. As I had learned from my two weeks of experience working for Akihiko, this was his usual attire until at least noon. On a good day, he might even shower in the morning. I guess when you’re rich you don’t have to care about being an absolute slob. “If you’re going to sleep in for breakfast, then why even have me come in so early? Why not shift the hours later so that breakfast is scheduled for ten o’clock instead of nine?”

Akihiko said nothing. He stared at me, still cranky from being woken up.  _ What do I care? He’s a grown man. He can learn to get up in the morning without needing me to wake him.  _

Taking an extra long drag of his cigarette, he puffed the cloud of smoke in my face. “I could just cut your hours instead.”

The threat of that alone was enough to shut me up. I needed this money. How was I supposed to tell Takahiro I had lost the biggest opportunity that he’d handed me for free? Akihiko never shows Nii-chan the side of him that I saw. As far as he knew, Akihiko was a fully functioning, self-reliant adult like the rest of us. I frowned and turned on my heels, marching straight for the dining room. “Whatever. Your breakfast is getting cold, your majesty.”

Downstairs, Akihiko ate his breakfast at the piano again, tapping out melodies and harmonies and trying different tempos or keys. I could hear the occasional curse when he didn’t like something, followed by the same vaguely similar melody with an A sharp instead of A natural or an extra rest in the middle of a phrase. In general, everything he came up with could be considered good, but Akihiko’s ear for  _ just the right  _ notes is what set him apart from the others, and when he heard the right tune, he knew it. 

I cleared his plate from the piano and brought him a glass of water with his mimosa, sticking around for a moment to hear him finish up a phrase. It was a faster tune, peppy. Though the sound of Akihiko’s playing alone was full accompaniment, I imagined it would likely have a lot of loud guitar and drums driving the energy of the song as well. 

“It sounds good.” I offered, hoping he’d accept my feeble olive branch in return for pissing him off earlier, even though I didn’t feel bad. I had no reason to. _He_ was the one being difficult. It shouldn’t be that hard to wake up in the morning to eat breakfast. 

“It sounds like shit.” He said, snatching the mimosa from the end table next to the piano for a hearty sip. His fingers trailed along the keys again and slammed down hard, flexing the tendons in the back of his hands. “E major…” He muttered absently. “D Minor…” Then he groaned. “Fuck it. I’ll scrap it.” Then, abruptly, he turned to face me. “I’m throwing a party tomorrow.” 

_ “What?”  _ I balked.  _ “Tomorrow?!  _ Usagi you can’t just spring a party on me like that, I need time to prepare! I--”

“Oh relax, kid, don’t get your panties in a twist. I’m not expecting you to cater for the party. In fact, you’re not even invited.”

I halted in confusion.

“Not...invited?”

“Nope.”

“But...why not?”

“You’re not old enough. Last time I checked you were twenty, and the drinking age is Twenty-one.”

“That’s only a rule at bars and clubs. No one here is going to know if I’m twenty.” 

Akihiko stood and shrugged. “Sorry, kid. I don’t make the rules. You’re not invited.” As he walked past me, he handed his empty Mimosa glass to me. “Next time, use more champagne. I like a morning buzz.” 

As badly as I don’t want to be, I’m a little miffed. Had he not specifically uninvited me, I wouldn’t have had a problem with not going. He knew he was getting under my skin. He was doing it on purpose. First he’s rude to me, he calls me a kid when  _ he’s  _ the childish one, and then he tells me that I’m not allowed to go to his party? After  _ I’m _ the one who takes care of his meals and wakes him up in the morning. 

“Why are you such an ass?!” My voice came out before my thoughts had a chance of stopping me. 

Back turned to me, shoulders still, Akihiko paused. He turned over his shoulder and suddenly I felt almost like cowering under his glare.  _ Almost… _

“Excuse me? Is that any way to speak to your boss?”

His voice carried a sharp edge to it, and in most situations I would have tucked my tail between my legs and ducked out of the room, but I didn’t. I’m not sure what it was about Akihiko that always got me so riled up, but when he acted so pompous and full of himself he made me itch. I couldn’t help but react to his every insult. 

“Oh, come on. What more do you want from me? I make your food, clean your dishes, I wake you up every morning. I’m already doing more than I am paid for, and you can’t even invite me to one of your stupid parties?”

Crossing his arms, Akihiko took a step closer to me. We sized each other up. “If they’re so stupid, then why does it matter if you’re invited or not?”

As badly as I wanted to toss my hands into the air and scream in frustration, there was little else for me to say or do, and we remained at a stalemate for a few seconds. I rolled my eyes and collected the dishes, leaving Akihiko behind in the room. “Fine. Have fun with your dumbass party. Don’t drown yourself before I get my next paycheck.” 

* * *

A- 

For at least an hour before the guests arrived I had already started to indulge myself with some Rosè. Around six o’clock, the rooms quickly began to fill up and conversation buzzed loudly over the music playing in the background. For me, I avoided conversation with those folks that I didn’t know very well at all costs. The only person on my mind was Takahiro, my safety net. I needed him to keep me sane at parties. 

In the meantime, Takano Masamune, a good friend and musician in my band, approached me with two drinks. I tossed back the rest of my wine and took the cocktail. “What’s in it?” 

“I don’t know.” Masamune shrugged. “I just asked for something strong.”

“Thank you.” Strong indeed, I felt a bloom of warmth in my chest from the tequila. 

“Is he not here yet?” He asked.

I shook my head and frowned. It was easy to confide in Masamune. We were similar enough. A word one might use to describe our personalities might be cold, or bitter, but we got along like that. He knew me well too, though I didn’t know much about him at all. I always planned on asking him more about himself, but the opportunity never seemed to arise. Or maybe I was just simply too narcissistic to care. 

“Well, you might want to check out the cute guy serving drinks at the bar. He seems like he’s your type.”

Another sip, another seed of buzzing warmth nestled deep inside my chest from the alcohol. I’m not quite sure if I was drunk or not. Probably. Who cares?

“Cute guy?”

“Have you not been back there recently?”

“No, I don’t know who you’re talking about. I hired the usual bartender.” My confusion was heightened by my drink.

“Yeah,” He said, “He’s back there. I recognized him, but there’s a new guy back there too. He’s younger, about yay-high.” Masamune lifted his hand and held it out near his shoulder. “You don’t know him?”

I attribute the amount of time it took me to figure out who Masamune was talking about to the amount of alcohol in my system, but I managed to put the pieces together soon enough. “You’ll have to excuse me.” I said, “Thanks for the drink.” 

“Anytime.” I heard Masamune mumble as he moved on to the next conversation he could find. As much as he hated parties like me, he was much better at hiding it. 

In the bar room a crowd of people stood around waiting for drinks, casually dancing to the music, and shooting their best shot at getting lucky before the end of the night. I cut through the lines until I reached the bar. There, I wasn’t surprised to find Takahashi Misaki mixing a mojito for a young blonde woman who was practically drooling over him. 

While my newest bartender was distracted by pouring a drink into a glass and topping it with a mint garnish, I slipped behind the bar and wrapped my arm around his shoulder.

“Fancy seeing you here.” I slurred in his ear. If I’m not mistaken, I’m sure he blushed, too.

“Buzz off, Usagi.”

Before the blonde woman could grab her drink, I snatched the mojito out of Misaki’s hands and took a sip for myself. “Needs more rum.” I said before handing the drink off. The girl took her drink without any fuss. I was never a fan of mojitos anyway. 

“What do you want, Usagi?” Misaki asked, starting to mix another drink. I was pleased to find that he was rather skilled at bartending, which made me wonder how he had gained such experience in the first place. 

“I want to know why you’re here, when I very clearly told you that you weren’t invited to my party.”

“I’m working, so does it really matter?”

“Yes, it does. I told you that you weren’t allowed to come and yet you still showed up. You ignored a direct order from your boss. I could fire you.”

Maybe it was the alcohol in my voice, maybe it was just Misaki getting fed up with my bullshit, but he called my bluff. “No you won’t.” He was right. I wouldn’t. There was something about him, and despite how he irritated me, I liked his attitude. 

Before I could get another word in, a loud cheer from the crowd erupted in the room and in came Takahiro with a girl on his arm. She was blushing and smiling, and I knew it was Manami, and my heart sank at the sight of them together. “Usagi!” Takahiro shouted, sounding more inebriated than me. He held a bottle of champagne in one hand while his other arm looped around his timid looking girlfriend. I hated how nice she was. It made her harder to hate. 

“Ahh, Takahiro!” I greeted him back loudly. 

“Usagi, I’ve got some big news.” He huffed, holding up Manami’s left hand to show off a diamond ring. “I’m getting married!”

Right then and there, I felt my heart stop. As the crowds cheered and the bottles of champagne popped open, I stood still in shock and watched as the happy couple kissed to show off how in love they truly were. At that moment, my mask faltered. I found that I couldn’t  _ pretend _ to be happy. Normally I was so good at flipping the switch, I could act like my heart  _ wasn’t  _ aching. This time, however, I couldn’t. I felt something pop and shatter in my hand and looked down to find a shard of glass sticking out of my palm. At some point I must have picked up a glass and...well…

“I have to go.” I whispered to no one in particular, not that anyone would be able to hear me over the deafening cheering. 

Through the bustle and the excitement of the crowds, I slipped out of the room unnoticed by all except for one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Leave a comment if you enjoyed it or if you have any questions or feedback. It really makes my day to read what you guys have to say!


	3. Take Me to the Pilot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not naughty, but there is a little spice  
> Please enjoy :)

M-

Amidst the sea of people downstairs I watched as Akihiko slipped away into the foyer where two grand staircases led up to the second floor. Though I was torn between following him and congratulating my brother, I figured Takahiro would be fine enough without me. He and Manami were already busy thanking all of the other guests who were celebrating their engagement with another round of drinks, despite the fact that very few of them probably even knew who they were. I figured I could tell them congratulations later.

Upstairs, the air was cooler and the music was muted. I noticed the door of Akihiko’s master bedroom cracked open and knocked before peering inside. 

“Usagi?”

Sitting on the edge of his bed with a defeated posture and bloody hand, Akihiko turned to speak over his shoulder. “Why did you follow me?”

I slipped into the room and shut the door gently behind me.  _ Tread carefully, _ I warned myself. “You cut your hand. Let me clean it.”

“I’m fine.”

“Usagi, you’re not fine. I saw your hand, now let me fix it, you idiot.”  _ Yikes, so much for treading carefully.  _

“I said I’m fine! I don’t need a brat to take care of me.”

Judging by the smell of him, I knew he had had a few drinks. I wasn’t going to go back and forth with him, so I pulled him by the arm and led him to the bathroom. Now was not the time to entertain his childish behavior. “Quit being difficult and let me rinse your hand.” 

Surprisingly enough, he complied, albeit with a few muttered complaints, but that was good enough for me. Flicking the light-switch on in the bathroom, I sat Akihiko down on the toilet lid and rummaged through the cupboards. His bathroom desperately needed to be deep cleaned, and although it wasn’t necessarily my job to clean, I made a mental note for myself that the next day I would add ‘clean Usagi’s bathroom’ to my to-do list. 

“Where are your tweezers, and don't have a first-aid kit?”

“Tweezers are in the medicine cabinet. First-aid kit is under the sink.”

Good. The next step was to rinse out the wound. I pulled Akihiko’s hand under the sink faucet and washed it with a gentle stream of water. From what I could see, two small slivers of glass were still embedded in his palm, but thankfully the cut wasn’t too deep. He’d be able to go without stitches. 

After cleaning the tweezers with some rubbing alcohol and a cotton pad, I hunched over Akihiko’s hand, palm up, and focused intently on the operation. The first one came out easily enough, but the second one took some work to pull it out, which made Akihiko’s hand bleed even more. The alcohol in his system must have dulled his senses quite a bit. Either that, or he simply had a higher pain tolerance than me, but he didn’t even flinch when I had to wriggle the second piece out of his skin. The only reaction I received was when I poured a small amount of the rubbing alcohol over the cut. 

“Ouch!” Akihiko hissed and yanked at his hand. I held his wrist firmly and poured more. “Fuck! Fucking  _ ow!  _ That  _ stings!” _

“You should be thanking me.” I blew gently on the cut as the disinfectant fizzed. “I’m saving your career.”

“Is that so?” He asked, contempt heavy in his voice. 

“Yes.” I placed a pad on his palm and began to wrap his hand in a bandage. “You can’t exactly play piano with an infected hand. Or you could, but you’d just make the cut worse and then they’d have to cut it off and I wouldn’t feel sorry for you.”

_ He’s a dumbass in the first place for even breaking glass. This is his fault.  _ I reminded myself. But then again, I had seen that expression on his face when Takahiro announced the big news to everyone. I had seen that sting of heartbreak, and it made me wonder how Takahiro had never seen it before? Did he really not know? Or did he simply not care? If he did know, would it have changed things? Would he still ignore Akihiko’s feelings? 

I wondered how long Akihiko must have felt the way he did. My thoughts raced back to the first time Takahiro had introduced me to Manami. I had been so excited to hear that my big brother, the man who had worked so hard to raise me, had finally found someone he loved. I thought of Akihiko and wondered what it must have been like, to pretend to be happy for your friend, when the thing that made them the happiest was the very same thing that broke your own heart. How do you cover that up? How can someone go on for so long without crumbling under that weight? 

“Why are you crying?” 

As cliche as it sounds, I really hadn’t noticed the tears in my eyes until then, or maybe I had, but I’d simply been so lost in thought I had forgotten I wasn’t alone.

“Shut up.” 

Akihiko groaned and rolled his eyes. “You’re such a brat.” 

“Shut up!”

“See? Proving my point right there! You can’t even-”

“Fuck you. You’re welcome.” I stood abruptly and washed my hands. I wasn’t about to sit through more ridicule after I had just spent time dressing his wound. After drying my hands I flicked the light off, leaving Akihiko in the dark and headed for the door. 

But then he called after me. “Wait.” 

“What?” I refused to turn around to face him. 

“Tell me why you’re crying.” He said, closer than I expected him to be. He sounded like he was less than two feet away. 

“No.” 

Before I could reach the door, Akihiko spun me around and began to stalk towards me. With each step closer, I backed up until I was pinned between him and the door. “Listen kid, I’m not going to sit here and beg, so if it’s really that important to you, then spit it out.” 

My blood boiled with each word he spoke. It was really actually impressive with how effortlessly he seemed to be able to invoke every ounce of rage within me with so few words. How dare he pretend like  _ I  _ was the one inconveniencing  _ him?! He can’t possibly be this self-centered! _

“Fuck  _ off!”  _ I shoved him back, just far enough to get out of my space. “I’m crying because of you!”

“Me?! What the hell did I do that was so bad?!”

_Bad choice of words._ I shook my head and groaned in frustration. “I’m not crying _because_ of you, I’m crying _for_ you, you prick!”

In a split second, it seemed like all of the air had been sucked out of the room. Akihiko, who had been tense and ready for an argument much like myself, seemed to hesitate. He searched my face. “...why?”

__ “Because!”  _ Because you make me want to pull my hair out!  _ “Because my brother just announced that he’s getting engaged in front of you and all of your friends!” 

Akihiko offered a pitiful nervous chuckle. “And what does that have to do with me?”

“Don’t play dumb with me!” I shouted. “I know you love him! I’m not an idiot!” 

There was much more I wanted to say. I wanted to scream at him for treating me like a child, I wanted to shout at him for making my job so much more difficult than it needs to be, I wanted to list every time within the past three weeks of my life that he has been rude to me and made my life a living hell, but I was cut off before I was allowed to say any of that. Before I even had time to react, Akihiko had stolen my breath and my first kiss all at once, and I was all the more furious. 

“What the  _ fuck?!” _ I practically spat in his face. Another kiss silenced me. This time, it was forceful, a overbearing, and he pushed me back against the door and pinned me there. 

I stopped crying, and when Akihiko’s eyes met mine they were a wild vibrant shade. “Alright, twerp.” He hissed. “You don’t just get to come in here and start spouting things out like you own the place, okay? You’re a lot of talk for someone your age. You can’t even legally be here. I would call the cops on you right now, if you weren’t Takahiro’s brother. You got that, brat?”

“You’re a dick.” 

This time, I was expecting his kiss, and I greeted it half heartedly until I gave in completely. I didn't like how he had me wedged between him and the door. I didn’t like the fact that he had given me no exit, but I wasn’t in the mood to resist. He tasted too good, and for some reason I found myself sinking further and further into him. But every time he pulled away, I was reminded of why I was angry in the first place. 

“Why do you keep kissing me?!” I shouted in a whisper, afraid that somehow, someone might hear us over the blaring music downstairs.

And every time he kissed me, that anger seemed to dissipate into nothing. “Because.” He pecked my lips. “You may be a brat, but you’re cute too.”

For a moment I allowed myself to get swept away in his breath. His mouth tasted like rum and I struggled to find any thoughts in my mind other than the feeling of his lips and my own. But a second of clarity pulled my back to reality and I pushed him away again. 

“Wait a second.” He continued to kiss the corner of my mouth and trailed further to my neck. It felt so good that I was tempted to let him continue, but I snapped myself out of his spell. “Usagi. Stop.”

As a man with even the slightest sense of decency, Akihiko stopped, but that didn’t stop him from looking like he was ready to devour me. He licked his lips like a hungry house cat. “Why?”

“Because,  _ asshole! _ I know what you’re doing! You’re not allowed to have Takahiro so you’re settling for me, because I’m the next best thing.” I held him back at arms length. 

Akihiko chuckled, and it reverberated deep in his chest. “Don’t flatter yourself, kid. Takahiro is a man. You’re still just a brat who needs a haircut.” He grinned, proud of himself for the low hanging insult.

“I mean it!” I wriggled out from between him and the door as he leaned in lazily for another kiss. “I’m not gonna be some tool to help you get over my brother!” 

“Why not?” He pouted. 

_ “Because!”  _

“Because why?” Akihiko asked, tilting his head to the side as he approached me slowly. We were inching back towards his bed, and I knew I was walking myself right into a trap. I felt my leg press against the mattress, and then I was once again stuck between a rock and hard place. 

“Because--” I struggled for words as I felt Akihiko nibble on my ear and pepper my neck with little kisses that sent shivers up my spine.  _ Why am I struggling so much to find a reason?  _ My eyes fluttered shut and I could hear my heart pounding in my ears like a bass drum. “Because...Because! You’re drunk!”

Another chuckle rumbled through Akihiko and his breath tickled my skin, sending goosebumps all over my arms. “I’m not drunk.” 

“Yes you are.”

“No, I’m not.” 

“Yes,  _ you are!  _ I can smell the alcohol on you!”

“You were the one serving drinks all night. Are you sure that it’s not just you you’re smelling?”

“Usagi!” I scowled. “We can’t do this!”

His fingers were cold as they traveled under my shirt and up my torso. It was becoming more and more difficult to refuse as he continued to nip at the skin on my neck and shoulder. “You still haven’t given me a reason why not.” Then he pulled away to look me in the eyes. “Why does it matter if I’m drunk?”

“Because…” My mouth was dry. “That would mean I’m taking advantage of you.”

With a sly and bewitching smirk, Akihiko pressed against my chest with one finger and I fell back onto the bed without a fight. He straddled me and began to unbutton my shirt, exposing my chest and running his chilled hands across my skin. “Oh Misaki,” He smiled, stealing another kiss. This time, I was completely helpless but to give in. I let his hands roam by body freely and felt him begin to roll his hips against me. “This isn’t my first rodeo. I think I’ll be fine.” 

He pressed his leg between my thighs and I felt a little moan of pleasure building up in my throat.  _ God, it feels so good. _

My anxiety stirred me a little. “Wait,” I huffed, breathless but still pressing myself further against his leg. “This may not be your first time, but I’ve still never done this before.” 

Akihiko’s head disappeared in the crook of my neck and I felt him suck and gnaw at the area right under my jaw. This time, I was unable to keep my breathless and pathetic sighs of pleasure in my mouth, and I pulled his body flush to mine, seeking any friction he would grant me. Then he kissed the skin he had just been sucking on, and I could already tell that in the morning there would be a dark, purple bruise formed from it. “Then I’ll go slow.” He whispered in my ear. “Just try not to cum before I’ve even put it in.” He added. 

That last comment earned him a pinch and a  _ “Fuck you.” _

He kissed me again, and I could feel the smile on his lips. “Ask nicely, and I just might let you.” 


	4. Your Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> flashback and the morning after ;)  
> Also some more JR characters will be introduced within the next few upcoming chapters

M-

Before the world tours and the platinum records and the sold out stadiums, there was a piano in my living room where Akihiko and my brother would sit at after school. The countless hours they spent writing and rewriting lyrics or chord progressions became habitual in our cheap apartment. I always wondered why Akihiko chose to come over to our dingy home instead of bringing Takahiro to his family’s estate. I was well aware that Akihiko was part of the Usami clan, which meant that his family was rich. Surely he had a nicer piano at home. Not that it bothered me, but I was always curious.

I remember waking up one morning when I was around nine years old. It was the weekend, which meant Akihiko had spent the night on our futon. I had heard him and my brother working diligently into the late hours of the night, which bled into the early hours of the morning. That was the way things usually went

I got up to make a pot of coffee for them, and some breakfast. I knew my brother would be busy, and Akihiko surely didn’t know how to make anything, so breakfast was my job. I took pride in being the chef of the house. My brother tried to help out in the kitchen as often as possible, but shortly after our parents’ death I had found escapism in cooking and baking. It became a passion, so Takahiro let me do as I pleased in the kitchen while he and Akihiko worked on their music. 

When I entered the kitchen, I was surprised to find Takahiro awake. The light was still on over the dinner table like he must have not turned it off from the night before. In fact, I was willing to bet that he had never actually gone to his bed in the first place and instead simply fell asleep at the table. 

“Good morning, Misaki.” Takahiro greeted me with as much energy as he could muster. “Sorry if we kept you awake last night.” 

“It’s okay, Nii-chan. I fell asleep before midnight.”  _ Okay fine, maybe it was a little closer to one-thirty, but he doesn’t need to know.  _

“Good. That’s a relief.” He said, and returned to the sheet of paper with scribbled lyrics in front of him. I could tell it was the same song he’d been working on for the past three days because of the stain that his coffee mug had left on the top right corner of the sheet. 

I wouldn’t consider Takahiro a lyricist. He was more of a poet, and he treated his music as such. He also considered Akihiko’s accompaniment as its own form of poetry. Their process worked like this: Takahiro would write a poem on his own. Sometimes he and Akihiko would work together, but never on the full poem, only on certain lines. Then, once the poem was finished, he would hand it off to Akihiko, who would then interpret the words into his own language on the piano. Sometimes he would change the words or rearrange the lines, but he never did anything to change the integrity of the poem itself. Then, once he had finished cranking out a tune he believed complimented the words, he’d put it together to show Takahiro, and they would tweak a few things together before calling it a song. 

It was like clockwork. Sometimes the process took weeks. Sometimes it took days. Sometimes, Akihiko could find the melody he was looking for in a matter of mere hours, as if it had been waiting in the tips of his fingers all along. 

I stood on my stepping stool and grabbed two mugs from the kitchen cupboard before starting a fresh pot of coffee. As the coffee brewed, I grabbed the carton of eggs from the fridge and some butter, then the loaf of bread from the pantry along with the cinnamon and powdered sugar. We were running low on groceries so french toast would have to do. 

“Misaki, I think I’m going to jump in the shower, real quick. Can you give this to Usagi when he wakes up?” Takahiro asked, pointing to the papers in front of him. 

“Sure.” 

“Thanks. I’ll be back before breakfast is ready.” 

I quietly worked about the kitchen, wiping down the counters before scrambling two eggs and some cinnamon to dip the toast in before frying it in a pan. I knew Akihiko wouldn’t like french toast, so I made him some plain eggs and warmed up a bowl of rice from dinner last night. When the coffee pot was finished brewing, I poured a mug for Akihiko and brought it over to the coffee table in front of the futon. 

He was dead asleep, laying on his side with his face pressed into the armrest of the sofa and his arms dangling over the edge of the couch. He never bothered to actually pull the futon out, he would always just pass out as soon as he laid down on the cushions. Somedays I would even wake up to find him asleep at the piano with his arms and head resting on the keys. 

The smell of coffee was enough to rouse him from his slumber. He opened his eyes just as I set down the music next to his coffee. He didn’t say ‘good morning’, or ‘thank you for the coffee’. Our pleasantries were kept to a minimum most of the time, especially when Takahiro wasn’t around. It wasn’t because we were unfriendly, it was simply due to the fact that we didn’t share much interest in each other. 

I returned to the kitchen and Akihiko sat up to down a hefty amount of his coffee before setting off to work at the piano. 

It was a ballad. I could tell by the softer, more delicate way Akihiko poked at the keys. His music filled the apartment as the smell of breakfast wafted through the rooms. Although I may have said that I became accustomed to hearing Akihiko sing from a young age, that is not to say that I didn’t enjoy hearing him--that did not mean I was never impressed. On the contrary, I always found my brother and Akihiko’s music impressive, it’s just that I rarely showed it. 

Akihiko spoke-sang the lyrics as he walked down the base notes in his left hand. He left his right hand for the more intricate details, which seemed to come to him faster than usual. “It’s a little bit….funny…” He started quietly, “this...feeling...inside…” Then he stopped, unhappy with one of the chords that he played and started again. 

I focused on cooking breakfast as best as I could, but it didn’t take long before Akihiko seemed to have found a melody that he enjoyed. It was simple, less complex than some of his other songs, but that made it easier to draw focus on the lyrics. He always understood when to highlight the lyrics or the music at just the right time. “I know it’s not much but it’s the best I can do. This gift is my song and this one’s for you.” 

It sounded as if Akihiko were reading the lyrics for the very first time as he made up the melody on the spot, as if he hadn’t glanced over the words before he actually even sat down to play. The lyrics were, irrefutably so, from Takahiro’s mind. I could recognize the tone and phrases my brother liked to use, and the song stuck out in my memory as one of the most genuine things I had ever heard from him. A love song, not written  _ about  _ someone, but  _ for  _ them. 

Just as I was captivated by Akihiko’s playing and voice, I noticed that he seemed to be in a trance of his own. There was a tender expression on his face as he sang the words, “you see, I’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue.” and I wondered what those lyrics meant to him at that very moment. Though the lyrics had been written by Takahiro, I got the feeling that Akihiko had adopted his own meaning to them as he sang. As I watched, he looked as though he were singing about something...some _ one _ dear to him. 

I hadn’t realized I had been staring until after Akihiko’s voice carried the last lyrics and he finished out the song. His posture slacked forward and he sighed, as if he had just finished lifting something heavy. Then he turned to me and asked, “How was that?” 

_ How was that?  _ The question swirled in my brain for a second, and only then did I realize how much I had really enjoyed the song. I felt heat rise to my face, slightly embarrassed that I had been caught zoning out. The only words that came to my child-mind were, “Good. It was good.” 

At the time, I hadn’t realized how silly my answer must have sounded. Akihiko, for the very first time, cracked the faintest smile at my response and nodded before turning back to the pages on the piano. “Good.” He reiterated and let the word hang in the silence over the room for a moment before nodding and gathering the pages together. “Good.” 

That was the only time he ever asked me about his music. 

* * *

When I awoke, there was a bandaged hand resting on my stomach and a head of platinum blonde hair pressed against my cheek. Akihiko’s limbs intertwined with my own and we were entangled in a mass of sheets and blankets. It was morning, and the sun had already risen. My phone must have died at some point in the night, because my alarm for work never went off. Not that my boss would be wondering where I was. 

Akihiko stirred in his sleep, and he pulled himself closer to me, burying his head in the crook of my shoulder and neck. He tugged the sheets over himself. It was cold and we were both very naked. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was supposed to do. Was he still expecting me to get out of bed before him to serve him breakfast? Would it be rude of me to stay or would it be rude of me to leave? My body was refusing to move, and I wasn’t too keen on the idea of waking up quite yet, but did my boss--my older brother’s  _ best friend-- _ still want me in his bed?

Thankfully, the decision was made for me as the doors to Akihiko’s bedroom burst open and in came a man whom I vaguely recognized to be Isaka Ryuuichiro, Akihiko’s tour and PR manager. I had seen him once or twice on TV, and he somehow seemed to always look the same: suit and tie, well groomed hair, and a big smile that looked more or less like it was plastered on his face with rubber cement. 

“Goo-ood Morning!” He bellowed as he entered the room, making a b-line straight for the window to draw back the curtains. “Rise and shine, superstar! It’s time to make some more money!” 

Mortified by being caught in bed with Akihiko, with another man no less, I cowered and pulled the duvet up to my chin to cover myself. It didn’t do much to mask the humiliation or give me comfort. Akihiko simply groaned in response and covered his head with a pillow, then he looped one arm around my torso and pulled me in closer to shield the light from his eyes. 

“Time to get up!” Isaka clapped his hands loudly and shook the foot of the bed. “Come on. You’re already 30 minutes late for our meeting. I even came here so you didn’t have to come all the way to the studio. Let’s go. I’ve got shit to do.”

The pillow covering Akihiko’s head was yanked away and tossed across the room. My words alone could not do justice for the intensity of the look Akihiko gave his manager, but if I were to try, the words I would use would be; purely venomous.

“Glare all you want, darling. Your looks don’t scare me.” Isaka grabbed a half drunken whiskey glass filled with water and splashed the contents on Akihiko, subsequently hitting me as well. I was irked, but Akihiko was pissed. He sat up and swatted at Isaka, who stepped out of the way before Akihiko could get a hit in. 

“I’m up! You  _ prick,  _ I’m up, alright?” 

Akihiko fumbled in his nightstand drawer for a cigarette and a lighter, lighting his first smoke of the morning. Isaka stood around and waited, watching us both with an expectant stare. 

“What? What do you want? I’ll be down in a second, just let me change clothes, for christ’s sake.” 

“Good.” That seemed to be all Isaka needed to hear. He turned to me. “Sorry for the rude awakening, love, but Mr. Usami is going to be busy with work for the rest of the day. You don’t mind if I steal him right? I’ll call a taxi for-”

“Isaka,” Akihiko grunted, his voice still fried from sleep. “This is Misaki. Takahashi Misaki.” 

Isaka leaned back against the door frame. “Oh? As in-”

“Takahashi Takahiro, yes. This is Takahiro’s younger brother. He works for me.”

I blushed, wishing that Akihiko hadn’t said anything at all. I would have rather remained the elephant in the room than being introduced to his public relations manager while I was buck naked in bed.

“Hi.” I offered lamely. 

“Well, that’s perfect! Takahiro is actually on his way, I’m sure he’ll be here any minute. Would you rather just stay in bed until he gets here or--”

Akihiko and I exchanged a panicked glance, and Isaka smiled. “I’ll be downstairs whenever you’re ready to talk, Akihiko.”

The door shut and immediately I raced into the bathroom. I couldn’t let Takahiro know I had spent the night. I couldn’t let him find out I had...that we were…

My mind was racing a million miles a minute when a knock on the bathroom door came and Akihiko entered the bathroom, stark naked as well. He smiled at the sight of me and flicked on the fan. “Bathroom will fog up if you don’t leave the vent on.” 

“What are you  _ doing?”  _ I hissed. I was already in the shower, but that didn’t stop Akihiko from stepping in with me and grabbing the loofah from the wall. 

“Well, you are the one he decided it was alright to just steal my bathroom, and I figured since we both need a shower it would just save time if we showered together. That way we’ll both be clean before Takahiro gets here.” He grinned and began to lather up my shoulders with the juniper scented body wash. “I’ll wash your body if you wash mine.” 

I snatched the loofah out of his hands and began to scrub myself clean. There was still a very clear spot on my stomach from the night before where I had... _ finished.  _ “Fat chance. I can wash myself.”

“Suit yourself. It would be faster if you just let me help.” 

“It would be faster if you just let me wash without feeling the need to  _ join me in the shower.”  _

Much to my chagrin, Akihiko didn’t leave and we continued to shower in a terrible silence. Once I was clean, I didn’t wait for Akihiko to finish washing himself. My clothes were scattered on the floor of the bedroom, and all I could do as I slipped into my shirt and jeans was pray to the gods that my brother wouldn’t notice that I was wearing the same outfit as the night before.   
  


We had actually slept in longer than I had thought. When I came downstairs it was already almost eleven o’clock. Too late to make breakfast. I would have to start with lunch. I had bought pork the cook with some udon the other day. I settled on that plan, and then considered making some onigiri for the side too. Akihiko loved onigiri, so I knew it would be a safe choice for a meal.

The doorbell rang. I considered answering it, but the door opened on its own and I could hear my brother’s voice carry through the entrance. Isaka and Akihiko greeted him as usual in their friendly way, and I came out to see Takahiro. He lit up upon seeing me and I was once again reminded of how much I really did love my brother. 

“Misaki!” 

“Hey, Nii-chan.” 

“It’s still so strange to see you here. What’s it like working here? Are you enjoying it?”

Isaka smirked from the corner of the entrance, and I tried my best not to falter. “Yep. I love it. Thank you for your help, Nii-chan.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank Usagi. He’s the one that offered the job.”

I glanced at Akihiko, who was dressed like a normal human being for once, and nodded. 

“He’s not too bad of a cook.” He chimed, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “I’d almost say he’s pretty good.”

Takahiro laughed and I excused myself to finish lunch. In the meantime, Akihiko and Takahiro’s voices floated through the walls. Everything was back to normal between them. Well, at the surface at least. Takahiro still didn’t know about Akihiko’s feelings, and now there was the secret that his best friend and I had just had sex last night. Plus, Isaka was aware as well, which meant everyone in the house knew that Akihiko and I had slept together except for my brother. 

_ Forgive me, Nii-chan.  _ I sighed and served up a bowl of noodles for Akihiko and both of his guests.  _ I may have done something I can’t undo.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. This story is a lot of fun to write for me. And thank you so much to the people commenting. Getting feedback on these chapters is what keeps me going!


	5. Don't Go Breaking My Heart

It’s safe to say that what happened between Akihiko and I after Takahiro proposed to Manami did not, in fact, end up being a one night stand. By the end of the month I’d grown a little too accustomed to the habit of sleeping over and waking up in my boss’s bed. It became a frequent enough occurrence that I’d even claimed a designated side of the bed--which, according to Akihiko, used to be  _ his  _ side of the bed until I had stolen it from him. Not my problem. The outlet was closer on the right side, and I needed to charge my phone at night. Besides, I’d woke him up once or twice before and I knew for a  _ fact _ that Akihiko always slept in the middle of the bed. 

_ He’s such a liar _ . 

That’s not to say I was entirely comfortable with this new development between my boss and I. Everytime Akihiko stole a kiss and let his hands linger on me, I felt a surge of paranoia.  _ What if Takahiro finds out? What if someone is taking pictures through the windows? What if we’re caught?  _

I’ll admit, there was a heightened element of excitement that came with the fear of being caught, but I couldn’t shake the notion that what we were doing was wrong, and that if we got caught we would be in trouble. 

“Usagi,” I whined, a little too pathetically. “Not here, it’s too exposed.” 

We were in the living room and the blinds had been drawn back. Completely exposed in the house, there was nothing to hide behind but the expensive velvet couch that felt far too luxurious to risk getting any stains on. 

Akihiko, with his mouth on my neck and his hips between my thighs, trailed a wet kiss up to my ear. “We’re fine. The hedges are too tall. No one can see in.” 

Although we were still both clothed--well,  _ I  _ was; Akihiko was still only wearing his stupid robe and briefs--I felt naked. If there is anything in this world I am weak to, it’s Akihiko and the way he always manages to unravel me with just a few touches. He’s a hornball, and he was starting to rub off on me, as ashamed as I was to admit it. More often than not, I found myself giving into his kisses and touch, even if I knew nothing beyond the craving for physical connection laid beneath the surface. I told myself I didn’t care, and convinced myself to believe it. 

A shrill ringing sliced through the silence of the house. I turned my head in the direction of the noise to stare at the rotary style phone.  _ Who the hell still has a rotary phone? _ Akihiko continued to nibble at my shoulder and I closed my eyes. “You should get that.” 

He didn’t respond. 

Three more times, the phone continued to ring. The sound of it pressed uncomfortably against my nerves.

“Usagi, it’s probably Isaka.” 

Akihiko grunted and ground his hips against mine. “It’s fine, Misaki. I’ll get it later.” He sounded annoyed, like he was offended that I might even entertain the prospect of interrupting the activity at hand.

I was just about to let it go. The phone stopped ringing for a moment, and I figured Akihiko was right. It could wait. 

And then the line began to ring again. We shared a groan of frustration, but Akihiko seemed infinitely more perturbed than me at the sound. He relented and rolled his eyes, peeling himself away from the couch, knowing I’d insist until he answered the call. 

“What.” He spoke curtly into the receiver and waited for a moment, turning back to glance at me as I fixed my clothes and buckled my belt again. His eyebrows pinched together and the corners of his mouth turned down in a scowl. “No, I’ve only finished four out the seven…Well do you want the songs to be good or do you want them to be finished?...I told you I’d get it done soon….”

With the mood properly spoiled, I rose from the couch and stood before the mirror, fixing my hair which had been thoroughly tussled. 

“No.” Said Akihiko, “...That’s your job, not mine. You handle it....” He sighed and rolled his eyes once more. “Takahiro and I will finish the songs when they need to be finished.  _ You _ can keep your nose out of it.” 

I perked up at the mention of my brother.  _ Is he talking to Isaka?  _

“Fine! You’ll get a half assed song, then. I don’t want to hear any complaints from you when the numbers go down from this next album, then.” 

A queasy feeling in my gut churched, and I felt the need to slip away from the scene. I was eavesdropping, and I got the faint sense that Akihiko didn’t want to be having this phone call in front of me, so I roamed my way back into the kitchen to clean the mess I had been interrupted from taking care of earlier. As I wiped down the counters, I could hear Akihiko’s tone grow harsher with each pointed word. His voice cut through the walls until, finally, there was the loud sound of a phone being slammed back onto the receiver followed by a drawn out moment of silence. With my back turned to the door I felt Akihiko enter the kitchen. He drew up from behind me and quickly resumed feeling me up with his hands under my shirt and his mouth wandering over my neck.

“Who was that?” I asked, not falling for the distraction. 

“A piece of shit.” 

I huffed out humorlessly. “Which one?” 

“My agent.” Akihiko said as he spun me around to steal a kiss. 

Once again, I was nearly swept away in the moment by Akihiko’s attention. There was a tightness in my chest that fluttered every time our bodies were pressed so close. He was just so damn good at making the hairs in the back of my neck stand up. I shivered when he nipped at the shell of my ear, but felt a sharp sense of sobriety clear my mind when his hand suddenly dipped down into the front of my jeans. 

“Stop.” I pushed back firmly, determined to show that I was serious. This was a boundary he was trying to cross.  _ That  _ behavior needed to be nipped in the butt sooner rather than later. Akihiko huffed and crossed his arms. 

“What now?”

“I need to clean, Usagi! I have to do my job, and so do you from the sounds of it. Don’t you have some songs to write?” 

I must have touched a nerve then. Akihiko stared down at me like I had just insulted him and narrowed his eyes. “I suppose I do.” He straightened his spine and turned on his heels for the door. “Misaki, don’t bother cooking dinner tonight. I won’t be here.” 

I turned back. “What? Why not?”

“I’m going to shower and then I’m headed for the studio to meet with Takahiro and the band. I’m not sure how long I’ll be there. You’re free to go home for the day.” 

With that, Akihiko left the room leaving his words to hang in the lingering silence. An involuntary frown stretched itself across my face and I felt myself sag with a strange sense of...sadness? No... _ It’s fine. It’s no big deal.  _ I tried to tell myself, but the sting seemed to linger even after the thought.  _ Why should I care? I get the rest of the day off. I can go home, relax, not have to worry about Usagi and...and… _

Yet, I was acutely aware of the tight feeling in my chest as my heart sank and I turned back to the counter, staring at the grey rag I had left there a moment ago.  _ Why do I feel like I’ve just been rejected? _

* * *

Strangely, home felt a lot smaller when Takahiro wasn't there. He usually wasn’t. Most of the time he was busy writing, either at the studio or at Akihiko’s place. If he wasn’t writing, he was with Manami, going on dates or spending time at her apartment in the city. It wouldn’t be long before Manami was living in the new house as well. There was plenty of room for the three of us, and I loved Manami like a sister already, but there were times when I missed the days that Takahiro and I would spend hours watching movies or playing video games in the living room of whatever small, dingey apartment we were living in at the time. 

I opened the fridge only to find a startling lack of anything. Groceries were even more limited at home than they were at Akihiko’s mansion. Between Takahiro going out with Manami and myself eating at Akihiko’s for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, there was hardly ever anyone to eat at home. As a result, the pantry and fridge had grown sparse with their contents, and all I had been left with for supper was the choice of some left over pasta or a cup of instant ramen. 

I may have been a cook, but I was still not above eating instant ramen. The intense artificial flavor of the broth brought me back to my high school days where ramen was the only food I ever had time to eat. It was a warm meal to fill me up, and that was all I needed.

Reruns on an old trivia show were playing as I curled up on the couch. Nothing like a cheap cup of processed egg noodles soaking in liquid sodium and a warm blanket in the evening, but my thoughts began to wonder, and I found it impossible for me to pay attention to the questions being asked to the contestants. Something about space and orbit and “the furthest point from the sun” or whatever. The answer was aphelion; a word that jogged only a distant memory of something I might have learned in high school. 

As the host continued to fire off questions about language, religion, pop culture, and geography, I found myself thinking back to my interaction with Akihiko earlier that day. For the most part, they day had gone about as routinely as any other day, until Akihiko had received a call from his agent. In the back of my mind I could recall hearing about his agent, but for the life of me I couldn’t think of his name. Thankfully, Akihiko was famous enough that a quick search online could give me the answer in seconds. 

The name  _ Kyou Ijuuin _ along with a picture of a tall, dark haired man with sharp features and a dashing smile appeared. From the developing crows feet near the corners of his eyes and the slightly more prominent laughter lines on the corner of his mouth, I assumed him to be older than Akihiko by quite a few years, maybe even a decade, but he wore his age well like so many wealthy men with money in their pockets tend to do. I scrolled through images of Akihiko walking through a crowd of people with Kyou following a few steps behind--images clearly taken by paparazzi after concerts, parties, or award shows. 

My thoughts returned to Akihiko from earlier that day. Something about the way he reacted to me pushing him away didn’t sit well with me. There had been an unreadable expression in his eyes that betrayed the rest of his face. I wondered if I had hurt him, but why? Surely, I’d pushed him away before plenty of times, and each time before he’d gotten over it quickly. On top of that, when he had announced that he was going to be in the studio for the rest of the day, suddenly it had been  _ my  _ turn to feel like the scorned lover. Why couldn’t Takahiro just come to Akihiko’s to finish the songs? Why did Akihiko have to go all the way to the studio?

The image of him and my brother sitting around the piano, laughing and smiling and bonding so effortlessly over their work felt unwelcomed. The thought of them sharing the day together without me stung. They’d probably go out for a nice dinner afterwards, and Akihiko could fawn over Takahiro without having to worry about Manami or being the third wheel. He’d have Takahiro all to himself, free from any distractions. 

I jumped to my feet in a sudden fit of outrage both at Akihiko and myself. 

_ For crying out loud, he’s your brother! He raised you! He’s engaged to a woman whom he loves dearly!  _ I seethed, stomping away to the kitchen. I hadn’t finished my noodles, but my appetite had been spoiled by my indignation.  _ Are you really going to let some rich, spoiled man-child come between your relationship with your own family?! _

“Get a grip.” I grumbled under my breath.  _ Besides, you knew this wouldn’t end up going any further than it is. You don’t get to act like it’s your turn for your heart to be broken. _

As I stood at the counter, rubbing the heels of my palms into my eyes, the doorbell rang. I figured it was probably a package or something and made no move to answer the door. 

It rang again, and this time, there was a knock on the door. I raised my head to the sound of it. Both my brother and I were relatively unsocial, and it was rare for either of us to ever have any visitors. 

From the top of the stairs and looking down at the front door, I could make out the form of someone standing, turning back casually to look behind them, and lifting their arm to check what I assumed to be a watch on their wrist. I recognized the clothing from earlier and descended down the stairs. 

Standing at the door, Akihiko was holding a bottle of champagne and wearing a stupid, perfectly handsome smile.

“Hello.” I greeted him lamely. 

“Hi.” He said, still grinning. 

_ Save the charm, buddy. It’s not going to work on me this time.  _

I refused to meet his enthusiasm with even half as much energy. “What are you doing here?” I asked, making a point to frown in return. 

He held up the bottle, gripped around the neck with his fist. “Figured it's better not to drink alone.” He said. “Are you going to let me in?” 

I had half a mind to say no and shut the door in his face, and what's worse, Akihiko had already seemed to move on from whatever had pissed him off earlier.  _ Probably because he spent all day doting over Takahiro.  _ I could feel my expression sour with envy. Misery loves company, and I wanted Akihiko to be angry too. It’s easier to stay angry when there's someone else to argue with. 

Akihiko stepped inside and slipped off his shoes by the door. “Do you have ice?” 

“In the freezer.” 

“Mind if I put this in there to chill for a little bit?” He asked, heading into the kitchen. I followed, keeping a safe distance between us. 

“Knock yourself out.” 

He made himself right at home like he always did. For as long as I could remember, wherever Takahiro and I were living, Akihiko had a way of making room for himself without asking. Not that Takahiro minded, and not that I ever really cared, but in the moment I found it only stoked the flames inside me.Was he was really just that oblivious, or if he just didn’t give a shit. Something led me to believe it was the ladder as he sat down on the sofa and patted the seat next to him. An open invitation, as if he couldn’t see my patience already growing thin.

I ignored him and took a seat on the smaller couch adjacent to him. 

“What, you’re not even going to sit with me now?”

“You took my spot.”

“Why are you being such a grouch?” Akihiko asked, and all at once I leaped at the opportunity to speak.

“Why did you come here?”

“I just told you, I didn’t want to drin--”

“You have other people to drink with. Masamune. Isaka.” My voice trembled with muted anger. I added:  _ “My brother.” _

“Oh,” Akihiko shook his head and rested his arm across the back of the couch. “Takahiro went back to visit Manami. I suppose I could have called Masamune, but I guess I didn’t really think to ask him. Besides, he’s usually busy on the weekends anyway.” 

“So you choose to come to my house so you can’t drink your bottle of Brut with me, despite the fact that you didn’t invite me to your big party because I’m not old enough to drink?” 

The lapse of silence while Akihiko stared at me was filled only by the sound of the host on the TV asking another question: _ “What is a word coined by the Greeks, also known as the fatal flaw of Icarus?” _ The answer:  _ Hubris. _

“Okay, you’ve got me.” He said plainly. “I came because I wanted to see you.” 

I’m not sure if that was the answer I was looking for or not. On one hand, I felt a sense of pride bloom in my chest at this admission. On the other hand, I knew it wasn’t the truth. 

_ Fine.  _ If he wasn’t going to give me the truth, I’d pry it out of him instead. “You see me every day. Isn’t that enough?” 

“No.” 

I turned to look at him.  _ “No?” _

He shook his head and insisted, “No.” And then he stood up and came around to sit next to me. I shifted awkwardly as he took up more room than necessary and scooped my legs onto his lap, then he leaned over and rested his head in the crook of my neck. I felt his hair brush against my cheek and the curve of his nose press against my throat. The flutter of his eyelashes upon my skin sent shivers through me. “I want to see you everyday and everynight, Misaki. I want to wake up next to you every morning and hold you as I fall asleep in our bed. I want to scoop you up and carry you with me everywhere I go so I’m never without you.” 

There was that weightless feeling again. That feeling of being swept away just by the sound of Akihiko’s voice alone. It startled me how he could spew out such confessions without even batting an eye or tripping over his words. He was far too forward with his affections, and it felt like I could never catch up. I melted under him, turning into putty in his ice cold hands. 

“Usagi,” I breathed, blushing at the sound of my own voice. I cleared my throat, grasping for any part of reality to hold on to. “Usagi, stop.” 

He wasn’t even doing anything, not even kissing me. The feeling of his breath tickling the skin under my jaw was enough. It felt like his hands were trailing phantom lines all over my body, yet they were still. One hand splayed flat across my stomach while the other held my thigh securely so that my leg would fall from his lap. 

“Stop what, Misaki?”

“This.” I pleaded pathetically. “I don’t want this.” 

I could feel the tears rapidly blurring my vision. I closed my eyes and felt the dam open, and suddenly I was crying, hiding my face in Akihiko’s shoulder. The game was over and the glowing fantasy had come crashing down around us. An arm pulled me closer. Akihiko cradled me and hushed my sniffles and quiet sobs. He let me cry for a moment. I needed that moment. 

When he finally spoke again, his tone was different--softer around the edges with concern laced in his words. “Misaki, what’s wrong?” 

His question angered me more than it should have, and spoke with an unnecessary venom. “I told you I didn’t want this! I told you I didn’t want to be some tool to help you get over my brother! I shouldn’t have slept with you! I spent my evening feeling sorry for myself and jealous of my own _brother!”_ I cried. “I don’t want to do this anymore! I told myself I didn’t mind if it was all a game, and I tried to believe it, but I can’t! I don’t want to sleep with someone who is just using me! I don’t want this!” 

The more I wept, the tighter Akihiko held me. Still, I kept my face down, hidden in shame and embarrassment. 

“Misaki,” Akihiko hushed me. He shifted our positions, setting me down on the couch and kneeling before me to look at my face. I tried to turn away, but Akihiko held my head in his hands. His eyes glistened as they danced between my own, and I felt my breath being snatched away from my lungs at the sight of them. “Do you think that I’m sleeping with you because I still have feelings for Takahiro?”

“Of course I do!” I choked on another sob. “You’ve had feelings for him for over a decade! You don’t just get over feelings like that so quickly!” 

“No.” He wiped away a tear with his thumb. “Maybe not if you have no reason….Misaki, listen to me.” He cooed. 

I listened.

“I’ll admit, I was afraid I was still harboring feelings for Takahiro as well. You’re right. It’s been over a decade, and it seemed like those feelings couldn’t possibly go away just like that. But that night that you followed me up to my room, I was a mess. I was drunk. I was mean to you, and yet you still sat me down and tried to patch me up.” 

My sniffling slowed down. I remained hunched over the seat of the couch, listening intently as Akihiko spoke.

“There was a lot of confusion for me that night. I was heartbroken because the man I believed I had loved for ten years had just announced that he was getting married to a woman he loved dearly. It hurt. But what was more upsetting to me was how numb I felt to it. It seemed like my world was crashing down on me, but yet, at the same time, part of me felt fine. I couldn’t understand why. I didn’t want to accept the fact that I might be fine after everything. I didn’t want to accept that fact that I might not have truly loved Takahiro after all.” 

He smiled bittersweetly. “And then this brat, who’d been getting on my nerves for the past two and a half weeks decided to follow me and, for some reason, I didn’t mind letting him see me in such at my lowest point. I was mad about that. You pissed me off. All of the sudden, when this kid who is ten years younger than me starts bandaging my wounds and crying for me because he had seen how heartbroken I had been, I realized that I’d been chasing down rainbows, meanwhile the real thing had been right under my nose.” His voice, which had grown louder with earnesty, suddenly dropped back down to a whisper, and he added: “I had been so blinded by a love that was never going to happen, that I’d convinced myself there could never be another person out there for me.”

My tears had ceased to fall and, though I hadn’t noticed until that moment, I was holding my breath, clinging to every word Akihiko spoke. 

“I’m sorry, Misaki. I must have forgotten to tell you that I love you.” And he leaned up to steal a sweet kiss. “Forgive me. It won’t ever happen again.”

This idiot, and his ability to say just the right thing at just the right time. I refused to fight the smile that spread across my face. A smile broke across his lips as well, and I was relieved when he kissed me again, just to feel the touch once more. It made me dizzy with happiness. 

We never did get to open that bottle of Brut, and it sat in the freezer, untouched, for the rest of the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter felt like pulling a freight train, so I'm sorry if it shows. Next chapter will cover a lot of Akihiko's past and explain more about how he reached the point he's at right now. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed :D If you listen to Elton John, whats your favorite song?


End file.
